Drugs, love and other warm sensations
by Helena Key
Summary: "What is this strange substance with which I am disinhibiting my basic functions?" Loki asks suddenly – his voice is low and rugged, like an old cat s purr. "Can-na-bis, I think." Tony responds slowly, cause he s not entirely sure. "But you can call it Marijuana." / FrostIron, One-Shot.


He doesn´t have the strength to keep moving. His legs are spread on the floor, - his toes slightly rub each other, trying to stay warm – and he feels indolent, lazy and calm. He tilts his head to the side and he can see the ocean outside the window, behind the folding curtains. He can smell the seawater – he can taste it as if it was in his mouth. Tony takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. The walls and the ceiling around him are purple – the color fly in the room along the blue of the curtains and the dim lights of the lamps. He feels dizzy.

Tony can feel the heat of the sun upon his skin, yet the chamber is dark. He doesn´t know if it´s day or night. He tilts his head to the other side and looks at Loki. He lies on his back over a black puff, a few inches away. Watching him from the ground, he seems tall, grand, _imposing. _He looks back at him, and his sharp green eyes become phosphorescent. Tony thinks about fresh grass wetted by the dew, and beautiful shinning beryls forged in the depths of the sea.

"What is this strange substance with which I am disinhibiting my basic functions?" Loki asks suddenly – his voice is low and rugged, like an old cat´s purr. Tony scratches his chin and tries to remember. His beard feels gritty and beaked under his fingers. The ocean waves break his concentration - far away, a gull is singing.

"_Can-na-bis_, I think." He responds slowly, cause he´s not entirely sure. "But you can call it _Marijuana_." Loki laughs at the name. It sounds strange and foreign in Tony´s mouth - it´s almost funny.

"I feel unwell, Anthony," He says, but his words are flat and distant. He covers his eyes with his right hand, and there´s a strange grin in his face. "My head tingles, my vision is blurring… I don´t like this marijuana of yours."

Tony giggles then. "Take it calm, that means it´s working." He replies, but he´s absent. He doesn´t know what he´s talking about. The gray smoke of his last cigar still hangs in the air of the room.

It feels good to smoke again – like reconnecting with a long lost friend. The heat on his throat, the acrid taste in his mouth, the weed ashes in the floor – everything it´s so friendly, so familiar. He´s lost in a daydream again. The cuckoo clock hanging on the wall starts ringing. Its song is dreary, unhappy and _sorrowful _– like the one of a little canary, forever trapped in his cage. The clockwise clicks at every passing minute, ticking endlessly around him.

Loki moves towards, and lies down beside him in the floor. His eyeballs, slightly wetted by the burning scent of smoke, are crossed by little red veins. His lacquered black hair looks messy. He smiles to him, something foreign shinning in his dull green eyes, and a warm, kind sensation -not caused by the numbing effects of burnt weed- crawls upon Tony's chest.

"You know? You're the strangest person I've ever meet." He says, in a soft and calm voice. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see the dawn mist glowing, spread all over the curtains and outside the window. It´s a Sunday morning, he knows now. The air he breathes is strangely clean, and he feels utterly happy without knowing why. It must be a Sunday morning.

"Strange in a good way, or in a bad way?" Loki´s red lips curl into a grin, and he knows that the nuisance in his voice is just feigned. He grins back for a moment, and then turns to look at the ceiling.

"I don't know…" He answers, shaking his nose. The smoke got into his nostrils – his eyes are burning. "I guess I'll have to figure it out over time…"

Loki falls silent at that, and so does he.

Tony feels lifted in another dimension. His head is prickling and he´s hungry – He wants a snack. The sun is high in the sky, but the room feels chilly as if it was at night. His mind blasts through space and his eyes are heavy. The floor beneath his back feels soft. Numbness takes over his being, and suddenly he loves California. "Beautiful state where weed is legal!" He murmurs between laughs.

He barely catches the sight of Loki rolling on his back, crawling from his right side to his left side. And he just stays there for a few minutes, sat upon his knees. His lips are moving – he´s talking – but Tony can´t hear what he´s saying. He´s lost in the low dance of the ocean waves, and in the sharp songs of the gulls that become louder and louder. Loki tumbles to the ground again, placing his head beside Tony´s - a few inches over his left shoulder. His whole body stirs in the opposite direction, - his legs crossed, his arms spread on the floor. Tony tilts his head to the side and catches the sight of Loki´s fingers tapping in the white carpet.

He looks at them - his stare blank, unfocused. He hesitates a little, and surrounds them with the palm of his hand. Suddenly, the volume returns.

"I love you, Anthony." Loki mutters, squeezing his hand. He softens his grip then, and starts to fondle the back of it with his thump. "You make me feel like a person… like a good person." His voice is fond and calm, and yet there´s something sad in the way he speaks.

"You´re a good person." Tony´s face is crossed by a strange, hazy smile, and he giggles under his breath - a small, soft giggle. "You´re just hiding beneath a scratchy surface." He says, squeezing his hand back.

A cool gust of wind comes through the window of the room, lifting the blue folding curtains in the air. The sound is long, rough and sharp, and there is something musical in it, like a low whistle - a distant melody.

"You know, other people have told me that before, and…it was meaningless…" Tony places his right hand over his arc reactor, suddenly very aware of the pounding heart that beats behind it - very aware on what he´s starting to feel. "But now… it´s nice. It makes me feel good."

"Why? You thought they were… How is that you say…?" He murmurs, pensive, trying to recall the old human saying. "… _Pulling your leg?_"

"No, not like that. I mean… I don't know." Tony hesitates. He doesn´t know how to explain it. "Coming from them they were… just words, you know? They didn´t mean anything. But when you say it, I can hear it… I can understand it…"

The cuckoo clock in the wall stars to ring again, and this time its song it´s not so sorrowful as before. Tony closes his eyes and the tingle in his head finally stops. He feels tired and drowsy. The blue of the curtains stay in the curtains, the purple off the walls stay in the walls. The lights of the lamps flicker, creating shadowy forms in the room. The salty taste in his mouth fades away - the sounds of the coast seems so far away, so distant. Loki mumbles something that Tony does not get to catch, and the grip in his hand tightens. His fingers between his feels warm.


End file.
